


Is That My Shirt?

by Jude81



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor, shirt stealer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81
Summary: Someone is a shirt stealer.Fulfilled for Tumblr prompt "Is that my shirt?"





	Is That My Shirt?

“Is that my shirt?” 

Lexa looked up from where she was stirring cream into her coffee, waiting for it to turn the light tan color that told her it was just about perfect. She stared at Clarke for a moment, her brow scrunched as her foggy brain tried to catch up to what Clarke had just said. 

“Um….” she raised her eyebrow and shrugged looking back down at her coffee and sighing. She’d already forgotten what Clarke had asked, but she was too tired to think too much about it. 

She picked up her mug and turned around, leaning against the counter. She took her first sip and sighed in relief, knowing that the first sip really didn’t have enough caffeine to wake her up, but it was the ritual of it. The first sip was always comforting, the precursor to her brain realizing that it wasn’t going to be derived of the much-needed caffeine boost. 

She hummed under her breath, her long fingers tapping the sides of the mug where she held it with both hands. She jerked slightly when she heard the heavy sigh from her right, and she looked up at Clarke, blinking owlishly at her while the other woman just shook her head a little, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Clarke. Did you ask me something?” 

Clarke chuckled and shook her head again, reaching up over Lexa’s head to reach the cabinet with the mugs. She could have grabbed one of the freshly washed ones that sat in the drainer to the side but reaching up allowed her easier access to Lexa. 

She leaned in, her breasts grazing Lexa’s arm, her lips pressed almost to the older woman’s ear. “I asked you if you are wearing my shirt.”

Lexa choked in her coffee mug when she felt Clarke’s breasts press against her arm, felt the soft puff of air against her sensitive ears. She could feel them flush almost immediately, and she only flushed harder when Clarke laughed softly, her lips brushing the outer rim of Lexa’s ear. 

“S-stop, Clarke.” She tried to pull away, but her body refused to obey her, too intent on enjoying the subtle pressure of Clarke’s body pressed against her own. She had never been particularly good at denying Clarke anything, or resisting her teasing glances and light touches. Eighteen months of doing…whatever it was they were doing…had changed nothing. 

Clarke smirked and leaned more firmly into Lexa’s, twisting her hips slightly so that the curve of Lexa’s thigh rested snugly in the dip between Clarke’s legs. She tilted her pelvis just enough to make her intent known, and she chuckled when Lexa’s eyes widened. 

She took pity on Lexa after a moment, stepping back enough to let the other woman breathe a little easier. But she smiled in triumph at the slightly flustered look on Lexa’s face. 

Breaking Lexa’s stoic facade hadn’t been easy. The woman was a leader and brilliant scientist, having won the Nobel Peace Prize at the age of 25 for her work in biochemistry and terra-forming applications that would be used in the first colonies on Mars. She’d done a stint in the military and then worked for NASA and then Elon Musk, eventually starting her own company that she had sold three years ago. 

Her drive to succeed had often overshadowed her relationships, and after the death of her young wife almost ten years ago, she had dedicated herself to applying her science to making the world a better place. 

But that had all changed the day she’d met Clarke in a meeting. She’d been surprised by the other woman’s background: an engineer who gave up a lucrative career with the foreign countries supervising and rebuilding infrastructure to pursue a career making prosthetic limbs for children. 

It had been Clarke’s connections that had originally been the basis for her post with Lexa, but Lexa had quickly realized that the woman had the ability to bend and compromise and understand what made other people tick, and how to give them what they wanted to her own benefit. It was a singular talent, and Lexa couldn’t help but respect her. 

“So is it?”

Lexa eyed Clarke for a moment, pulling herself away from her the counter to stand up and face Clarke. She glanced towards the door, relieved that it was still shut. Her staff knew better than to enter without knocking first, Clarke and her private team being the few who ever dared enter the small kitchen. It wasn’t much compared to the elegance of the rest of the house, but it was her’s, and it allowed her a few moments of peace. 

“What do you think?” 

Clarke chuckled and stepped into Lexa’s space, her hands automatically finding Lexa’s hips, her fingers digging slightly into the expensive fabric of her skirt. She tugged Lexa toward her, enjoying the way Lexa resisted slightly. But when Lexa tossed a worried glance towards the door again, she reached up and cupped Lexa’s face. 

“No one is going to barge in on us. We are safe here.” 

“Safe,” muttered Lexa as she leaned her cheek slightly into Clarke’s palm. She could only imagine what the press would make of their relationship if it was uncovered. She didn’t enjoy the secrecy, but at least they weren’t under scrutiny together, only separately. 

“I like it. Do you think anyone will notice?” 

Lexa shook her head, setting her mug on the counter and wrapping her arms around Clarke’s shoulders. She let her hands drift down Clarke’s back, wishing it was bare skin she was feeling and not the white fabric of Clarke’s blazer. 

“I’m not sure I care anymore.”

Clarke laughed. “Yes, you do.” She pressed her forehead against Lexa’s, her hands sliding around to the small of Lexa’s back. “You always worry about what they will say.”

“It isn’t so much what they will say, it is that technically we work together, and some would argue that I used my position to coerce you, or worse…force you.” She shuddered at the thought, anger prickling under her skin. She knew how the game was played, knew that there would always be those who would believe the worst. And she wanted to protect Clarke from the vicious scrutiny and angry aspersions upon her character. 

Clarke laughed again and kissed the tip of Lexa’s nose. “If memory serves me correctly, it was I who managed to wheedle my way into your bed.” 

Lexa rolled her eyes, “It wasn’t hard.” 

“Wasn’t hard? Are you kidding me? I’ve never worked so hard to get laid before.” She laughed again at Lexa’s glare and shrugged. “I had to actually show up naked in your bed. Got your attention though.” 

Lexa nodded, her mouth suddenly dry, remembering the night, more like early morning, she’d stumbled to her bed, wishing for nothing more than a couple hours of sleep before her 6:00 am meeting; only for her wish to completely evaporate at the sight of Clarke laying in her bed, nothing but a sheet covering her. 

She’d wanted to be outraged that Clarke had dared to enter her bedroom, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry, since she had fantasized about this more times than she cared to admit. And it had only taken an offered hand and soft words, and she was tumbling into Clarke’s arms. 

“Hey…hey, come back to me,” murmured Clarke as she pressed her lips lightly against Lexa’s, careful not to smudge her lipstick. 

Lexa’s arms tightened around Clarke’s shoulders, and she pressed her mouth against Clarke’s, relishing the taste of her and the sound of her soft squeak. 

“I love you.” She whispered it against Clarke’s mouth, imagining that Clarke swallowed the words and held them in herself forever. And her heart soared when she felt Clarke shudder and whisper words against her mouth that Lexa couldn’t understand but could feel in the way Clarke’s fingers gripped her hips, the way her nose brushed against her own. 

They stood that way for long moments, wrapped in each other’s embrace, until Lexa heard the gentle tap on the door. She sighed and stepped out of Clarke’s arms, already missing the weight of Clarke against her. She quickly drank the rest of her coffee, before taking the mint that Clarke offered her. 

“Duty calls.” She straightened her skirt, running her fingers down the slight indents from Clarke’s fingers, wishing she didn’t have to erase every sign of her lover. She straightened the blue blouse that was just a little too big for her and the exact shade of Clarke’s eyes, her fingers lingering on the pearled buttons. Perhaps not every trace. 

“Enter.”

They stood a few feet apart, neither looking at each other as the woman in the doorway nodded before saying something into the mic at her wrist. 

“Madame President, Ambassador Griffin, the car has arrived, and the delegates and press have all been seated. We are ready for you.” 

Lexa nodded and waved the woman out as she started walking towards the door, Clarke at her side. 

“So you never did tell me…is that my shirt?” 


End file.
